


The Interrogation Room

by Persiflage



Series: Skoulson RomFest 2k16 [3]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Disabled Character, Comfort Food, Daisy Taking Care of Phil, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Grilled Cheese is a Skoulson Staple, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Mentions of Coulson/Price, Missing Scene, Older Man/Younger Woman, POV Skye | Daisy Johnson, Platonic Cuddling, Sharing a Bed, Skoulson Romfest 2k16, Spooning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-15 00:07:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5764216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daisy is going to take care of Phil, even if he thinks he doesn't need it. (He does.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Interrogation Room

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Skoulson RomFest 2k16 for the prompt 'Interrogation Room'. It's a sort of missing scene/canon divergence thing.

When Daisy sees Coulson sitting at the table in the Interrogation Room she's forcibly reminded of their first meeting – sitting in the cell aboard the Bus with Coulson playing 'good cop', and Ward playing 'bad cop'. Everything's changed since then, except for one thing – Daisy still thinks of Coulson as a good man.

When she reaches across the table and carefully touches his hands, she hopes he knows she's being sincere in expressing her sympathy for his loss. It's true that she neither liked nor trusted Price, but neither does she think Price deserved to be murdered in cold blood by Ward. It's been obvious to her all along that Coulson felt something for the head of the ATCU, and all she's ever wanted for him is for him to be happy. SHIELD has consumed his life, literally as well as metaphorically, and it hurts so much that they've taken so much from him and given him nothing back.

She doesn't want to sit here and talk about Ward – he's the last person she's interested in spending time on, but she can see, just from the way Coulson reacts (and doesn't react, too) to her sympathy that he's focused solely on the mission he's given himself. And while Daisy would rather not give Ward any more time or attention, she can't fault Coulson's desire to end him once and for all.

So she sits and honestly answers Coulson's detailed, and often very personal, questions, but throughout the 'interrogation' she watches him – sees how controlled he appears, something that's reflected, in part, by his vibrations: but unlike everyone else, she can sense the jagged emotions lurking beneath his seemingly controlled exterior – she's no therapist (and she deliberately puts aside any thought of Andrew), but she can still tell that Coulson's on the verge of breaking down. She just doesn't know how soon it will be – if he'll be able to hold things together long enough to track down and deal with Ward. She hopes he can, even though she wishes it didn't have to be Coulson (she wishes passionately that she'd aimed for the head back in San Juan, instead of going for body shots; wishes just as passionately that she'd let Mike kill Ward back aboard the Bus – not that she'd want Ward's death on Mike's conscience, either) – but she knows only too well how Coulson's mind works, knows exactly how much he blames himself for giving Ward a place on his team in the first place.

When her session with Coulson is finished she walks out of the Interrogation Room feeling heavy-hearted, and wonders if there's any way to reach Coulson, to show him some support, before he goes on his self-appointed crusade.

She can only think of one thing, so she heads into the kitchen and begins to get out the things she'll need.

By the time everything is ready Coulson still hasn't left the Interrogation Room, although she knows he's finished interviewing everyone from their original team, so she loads everything onto a tray and carries it downstairs.

He's scowling when he looks up at her entrance, but the scowl turns into a look of confusion when he sees the tray she's carrying.

"You need to eat," she tells him bluntly.

"I'm not hungry," he says brusquely.

"Tough luck." She sets the tray down on the table near him.

"Daisy," he says, his tone sharp with warning.

"Coulson." Her tone is equally as sharp. "You didn't have dinner tonight, you've sustained injuries during your fight with Ward's goons, and you've suffered a huge emotional blow. Bobbi, Jemma, or Andrew, would all tell you that you need to eat in order to keep going – you won't succeed in taking Ward down on the strength of rage alone. So eat."

He folds his arms, glowering at her, and she promptly copies his gesture, giving him her best stubborn look.

He cracks first, with a loud sigh, and a muttered, "Fine, I'll eat."

She keeps any hint of satisfaction or triumph from her expression as she passes him a plate of grilled cheese.

"Sorry it's not your super-secret recipe grilled cheese, since you 'will not disclose' – " His lips twitch faintly when she repeats his words back to him. "But it is grilled cheese with a Daisy twist."

"'A Daisy twist'?" he repeats, clearly bemused.

"Yeah."

"What's 'a Daisy twist'?"

"Well, Phil, you'll find out if you eat it."

He rolls his eyes, then gestures at the chair she'd occupied earlier. "I can't eat if you're looming over me," he says.

She sits down, then gives him an expectant look, so he picks up half the sandwich and takes a bite. She can't help smirking a bit when she sees his eyes widen.

"Cheese, bacon, and tomato," he says around the first mouthful.

She nods, pleased. He's not saying much, but vibrations don't lie, and she can tell that he's enjoying the sandwich.

He eats it pretty fast, which proves her right about him needing to eat, and when he's finished the final crumbs, she raises an eyebrow, waiting for a verbal verdict.

"That was really good, Daisy. Thank you."

"You're welcome, Phil," she says softly.

"What else did you bring me?" he asks, his own tone much softer.

She gestures at the covered bowl. "It's nothing fancy," she tells him. "You know me – I don't have a lot of experience with cooking."

He nods, then lifts the cover off the bowl, revealing the contents.

"It's just canned soup," she says quickly. "Well, I may have souped it up a bit."

He groans quietly at her pun, just as she'd hoped he would, then picks up the spoon to try it.

"You've added herbs," he observes quietly.

"Yeah, just a couple." She gets to her feet. "I'll leave you to finish eating in peace," she tells him.

"Stay, Daisy." When she hesitates, he whispers, "Please."

She nods, then resumes her seat. She doesn't watch him as he eats, but she can't stop sensing his vibrations, and she can feel him beginning to relax bit by bit as the hot comforting food works its magic on him.

"You need to get some rest, too, Phil," she tells him as he sets aside the empty bowl.

"I need – " he begins.

"To rest," she repeats. "You can't go running off after Ward right now. You won't succeed in taking him down if you leave in your current state."

He sighs quietly, then nods, and she offers him her hand. To her relief he accepts it and lets her pull him up to his feet. She slides her hand slowly up his right arm, her eyebrows raised, and after a moment of hesitation, he steps into her personal space, which she takes as permission to wrap her arms around him, hugging him close.

"Thank you, Daisy," he says, his face against her hair.

"Any time, Phil," she tells him, tightening her arms. She brushes her lips against his cheek, then says, "Come on. Upstairs."

He lets her lead him upstairs and along the halls to his bunk, and she guides him inside, her hand on the small of his back, and he sits down heavily on his bed.

"Try to get some sleep, Phil," she says, turning away. He reaches out and clasps her wrist, forestalling her departure.

"Will you stay?" he asks, his voice containing a mixture of hope and shyness. She can tell that it wasn't easy for him to ask.

"If that's what you want Phil."

"I do."

She nods, then kneels down and gets his shoes off, then his socks. She helps him out of his sweater, then unbuttons his shirt and peels that off him, leaving him in just his undershirt.

"Can you manage the rest?" she asks, hoping her tone is casual enough.

"Yeah." She hears him swallow, then he says, "There's more sweatpants and t-shirts in the drawers."

"Thanks." She grabs both, then takes them into his ensuite, and gets changed quickly. She's not embarrassed at the idea of changing in front of Coulson, but at the same time, he seems rather uncomfortable, and she doesn't want to make him feel any worse.

When she emerges from the bathroom he's dressed the same way – an old grey SHIELD t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, an ensemble which she vividly recalls from last year when he was carving alien symbols on the walls.

"Are you going to take off your prosthetic?" she asks quietly.

"I – yeah," he says. "Do you mind?"

"Of course not, Phil. I want you to be comfortable."

He nods, but he doesn't look at her as he detaches the robot hand and puts it into its case. She remains perched on the side of the bed, not knowing on which side he prefers to sleep. She sees him grab a tube of cream which he carries across to the bed.

"Would you like me to do that?" she offers gently, unsure of whether he'd want her to touch his foreshortened arm.

He looks startled by the offer, but nods and holds out the tube. "It just goes around my stump," he tells her, his voice hushed.

"Okay. Why don't you come and sit down?"

He does, and she settles cross-legged on his left side, and opens the tube. He sits very stiffly, she notices as she curls her hand around his elbow before beginning to rub the cream into the skin of his stump.

"Okay?" she asks.

He nods, although he's still very tense.

"Does it hurt?"

He gives her a really stricken look, which she can't interpret, swallows, then says, "All the time."

"I'm sorry." She shifts her hand from his elbow to press against his lower back as his heart rate speeds up and his breathing grows uneven. He seems to be on the verge of a panic attack, and she's not sure how she's triggered it.

"Phil." She keeps her voice soft and calm. "What is it?"

"That's – " He swallows again. "Roz asked me that, right before tying my tie for me the other day."

"I'm sorry," she tells him, feeling a pang of guilt.

He shakes his head. "You weren't to know." 

She begins rubbing his back, her other hand still curled loosely around his stump. "Is this okay?" she asks.

"Daisy." He sounds on the verge of tears, she thinks, so she takes her hands off him, then gestures at the pillows. 

"Why don't you lie down?" she suggests.

"Yeah." He moves across the bed, then stretches out on his right side.

She slips off the bed to put the tube of cream back where he'd taken it from, then she switches off the central light, before climbing into the bed with him.

"Daisy, will you – " He stops, and she waits. She suspects she knows what he wants, but she'd rather he asked her himself. "Will you hold me, please?"

"Of course," she says immediately, and moves closer, then slides her arms around his torso. She presses her lips softly to the nape of his neck. "Okay?"

"Yeah," he breathes, settling his arms over hers.

"I've got you now, Phil," she whispers. "You're safe. Go to sleep."

She feels the tension slowly ebbing out of his body, and she knows she could offer to use her powers to help that along, but she thinks it might be better if it happens naturally – using her powers on him would be a whole other level of intimacy that she's not sure he's ready for, not so soon after losing Roz.

She can tell the moment that sleep claims him and once it does, she allows herself to relax and yield to sleep. She hopes very hard that Coulson won't suffer from any nightmares tonight, but at least if he does, she'll be here to wake him and calm him.

Her last thoughts before she falls asleep herself is that she'd never seriously imagined sharing a bed with Coulson – and while there's nothing remotely romantic about this situation, it's still something she does out of love for him. Their relationship might never be anything but platonic, she knows, but she can't imagine ever not loving him in some capacity. And although, in some ways, it's not enough, in others it's exactly enough because she knows that he loves her too. And she thinks that their love is what will get them through this.


End file.
